


Napping on the Job

by QuickKittie



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickKittie/pseuds/QuickKittie
Summary: (Flash Fiction) A group of OCs meets up at a metaphysical bar to mourn the passing of an old friend. Omochao inquires about death.





	Napping on the Job

It was as good a day as any to be indoors. The afternoon sun beat upon the sandstone buildings. The cumulus clouds listed across the sky, pushed along by some lazy zephyr. The ocean lapped at the docks, cradling the boats in a gentle rock-a-bye. Yes, it was a beautiful day to be indoors.

They had gathered to mourn an old turtle, buried at sea. Most of them had been absent for the funeral, they couldn’t beat the heat. Of course, Bucky had been there. He was the only one who had proper clearance, and besides, he wouldn’t have missed this send off for the prettiest woman alive. Otherwise, only Cam and his best friend Omochao had pardon to attend the funeral.

So instead, those who’d known him met up afterwards at the Last Stand, where the doors were open to anyone who could find them. Bucky had wanted to make some snappy remark upon entering the bar for the first time, something like, _So this is where you guys hang out, not bad,_ but he kept it to himself. Cam immediately approached the counter and asked the bartender, a longtime friend named Guess Who, for a tall glass of buge juice, his favorite. When Leroncinni Legocci gave him a disturbed look, Cam reassured the grasshopper that the juice wasn’t made from actual bugs.

Steel the headless Cock, upon seeing the somber countenance of the group around him, inquired what was going on. “Blimey,” shown the green text on the visor of his motorcycle helmet, “who died?”

Cam couldn’t bring himself to answer. It was Bucky who, being the eldest of the group by far, took up the responsibility of informing his former coworker.

“Zapp,” sighed the beaver, and then, “I thought _yo_ u were dead. Took me a second to recognize you.”

Steel had no witty retort. Bucky asked for a scotch.

“Bettuh make it two,” quipped Gale the Quail from across the room.

“I don’t serve alcohol to minors,” replied Guess Who, ignoring the time he had served alcohol to minors.

“Cam,” said Omochao, “what happens after death?”

Cam stared at the perspiring glass. Again, the words escaped him.

“You gotta off switch?” asked Gale.

“No,” said Omochao.

“Design flaw,” mocked Gale.

Cam pet his blue robot friend. He said, “There’s… flowers… and… everything… is calm…”

“Bull-shit,” interjected Gale, who then walked over to the pinball machine. “Whose drink is ‘dis? Geddit off, I’m tryn’a play a game.”

“Omochao,” said LeLe, “Cam-a is-a right-a. Heaven is like a moving painting, only better. It’s-a out there somewhere, in the stars.” 

Bucky smiled. He didn’t believe it, but it was comforting to think that his old commanding officer might be up there, sailing, the passion of his youth returned. Maybe heaven was a little like a daydream. Maybe the sleepy old anchor had already been there.

Gale threw the glass that was atop the pinball machine, and Guess Who made it disappear accordingly. “Ridiculous,” muttered Gale. “Pain in my tailfedduh’."


End file.
